


His whispers make my ears hurt

by dave_klepto



Series: dream smp drabbles [2]
Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Cannibalism, M/M, Not Beta Read, Nothing in this is healthy to say the least, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-13
Updated: 2020-12-13
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:40:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28044813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dave_klepto/pseuds/dave_klepto
Summary: His laugh rang in his ears.
Relationships: Alexis | Quackity/Jschlatt, In the way its canon on the smp
Series: dream smp drabbles [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2054298
Comments: 1
Kudos: 57





	His whispers make my ears hurt

**Author's Note:**

> there is a lot of mentions of things so stay safe. i wrote this listening to a schlatt playlist. ill probably edit this later but for now, block of text

Quackity jolted up in his bed. He felt Schlatt's hands on him, he looked around his room to find nothing. Schlatt is dead, yet the smell of alcohol still hung in his room like a thick fog. He grabbed a cigarette and lit it as he walked out to look out the windows of his new house. Schlatt had smoked a lot and he knew both him and Fundy had picked up the habit since. They say you pick up the habits of the people you love, the alcohol in his house and the cigarette in his hand said enough about that. Quackity ran his hand down his face and he heard a laugh behind him. A haunting laugh, one he had heard far too many times, he turned to see nothing. He turned back to the window and took a puff of his cigarette. New L'manburg looked back at him. What was it about this piece of land that was worth it? No member of the country doesn't have scars because of it. From the burn scars on the new president's face from the fireworks or the empty hole in Quackity's own heart. God, he missed him. He missed that fucking asshole. He didn't care that Quackity got him most of his votes or about anything except his stupid deadlifts. But still he missed him because even if he didn't care Quackity could pretend he did. He could pretend that when he kissed him it was something more. He could pretend that when he would look out the window with him and Fundy and smoke and talk that it actually meant something. Somewhere in Quackity's brain he was pretty sure Schlatt did care, underneath the smell of alcohol and cigarettes there was a part that cared, he saw it in his eyes when he died. Quackity wanted him back, he wanted to feel Schlatt's hands on him again, he wanted to smoke together again, and he wanted to feel wanted again. Despite literally dancing on his grave there was a reason he stayed there, and in a desperate need to feel him again he tore out Schlatt's heart and took a bite. It was vile, and raw but if he closed his eyes he could pretend he just didn't cook his steak well enough. He didn't want to think about what he did the night of his funeral. He took a puff of his cigarette again but decided he should try and sleep again, he put out his cigarette with his tongue, another habit he picked up from Schlatt since he refused to put an ashtray in his office. As he went to toss away his cigarette, he saw the shadow of ram horns on his wall near some of his Whiskey. Maybe Schlatt wasn't as gone as he had thought. He tossed out the cigarette and went back to sleep in his bed. If he smiled in the morning when he saw a half empty glass of Whiskey that wasn't there last night then it was no one's business.


End file.
